


To Chase The Sun

by regretdotjpg



Series: McGenji Week 2018 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackwatch Era, M/M, McGenji Week, McGenji Week 2018, Symbolism, high noon, just a warning: Genji is NOT in the best mental state in this, ooh boy here we go, sorta...you'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 20:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15566229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regretdotjpg/pseuds/regretdotjpg
Summary: Day 1:Moon//Sun---McCree had stopped moving entirely to stop and stare at the downed bots. His face was lit up with genuine impressment when he turned to look at Genji. Perhaps the man was not making fun at his expense after all.He retracted the shuriken in his hand, letting them slide back into his metal arm.“You have ta teach me how you do that sometime.” McCree said, lips quirked up into a faint smile.His eyes were bright. Warm.Genji looked away.—In which Genji doesn’t know what to make of the cowboy named Jesse McCree.





	To Chase The Sun

 

 

When he first woke up, he felt cold.

For a sweet, brief moment, Genji didn’t remember what happened, or where he was. But then he did.

There was no way to fully describe what he felt then. Crippling fear, followed immediately by deep, tangled pain, _sorrow._ The echo of the blade cutting through his flesh hurt, almost as much as the tangled mass clawing desperately in his chest as he remembered. He wanted to scream out the _betrayal,_ scream until the hissing ache of numbness in his throat strangled whatever life was left in him.

But he had already screamed plenty.

Then came the rage. Hissing, shaking anger that shook the pathetic chunk of a human he was now and made him see red, so, so, _so much red._ Red that wasn’t his blood, seeping into the floorboard and staining wicked sharp metal. The snarling, howling anger wanted to rip out of his body and get its vengeance. He almost couldn’t believe it. He wanted to close his eyes and wake up and see that everything was fine. But he knew it wasn’t a dream. It was all too vivid. Too real. The sharpness of the betrayal hung heavy on his throat.

Only when he tried to get up did he realize something else was horribly wrong.

 

When Genji saw what had become of him, he wished they would have just let his mangled body bleed out and die.

What was left of of him was a _monstrous_ tangle of cold unforgiving metal and scarred flesh. Tubes weaved into metal and flesh alike, carrying whatever it was that kept him alive. All that remained from _before_ was a small portion of the upper left of his body— part of his chest, his shoulder, and his arm. He couldn’t count the pitiful salvaged skin below his hips, especially when all that was left of his legs were useless, hopeless stumps.

Broken. He was broken. And yet his heart, if it was still in the hard metal that was his chest, kept beating. Genji did not know if he wanted it to.

 

When the good doctor came in and introduced herself, Genji couldn’t find it in him to hate her, which was surprising. All he had left now was rage. But the doctor, Angela Ziegler, was young, around his age, and so obviously unsure if he even wanted to live like this. Perhaps she had been ordered to do this to Genji. So when she talked to him, he tried not to glare. She offered him an option: Genji could join Overwatch. Blackwatch, specifically. They would complete his body, and in turn he would join their ranks.

Genji didn’t want to live. What was there to live for? He wasn’t human anymore. Just metal and tubes and pipes and a _machine._ He wanted vengeance. He wanted to slip away. He wanted to go back to the way things were.

But staring down at the pathetic little stumps of his legs, Genji realized something.

He wanted to walk again.

And so he said yes.

Days later, once his body was completed and his metal torso developed to the fullest, Genji got that wish. He got back his legs and other arm. In a sense, his new body was a miraculous feat of modern technology. It kept the flesh and blood part of his running, made him into a living _weapon_ with all its easily accessible weaponry and information systems. But technology as it was now couldn’t do everything. The metal parts of him could feel, but it was a pale mimicry of what it had been like when he was whole _._ But it was what he all he was now. A man that had been tossed out and turned into a fractured half flesh, half metal **_thing_** that would never truly live.

All he had wanted to feel freedom. He got this instead; not being able to feel at all.

But that’s what happens when you fly too close to the sun.

  


\--- --- ---

  


He met his team a week after that. The team was comprised of the Strike Commander himself, Gabriel Reyes, and two other agents. One of them was Moira O’deorain, a tall, pale woman with piercing eyes. Apparently, she was a doctor as well. But upon looking at her gaunt hawkish face, Genji found it in him to be mildly grateful, at least, that he had been assigned to Doctor Ziegler and not her.

And the other agent was an actual cowboy, about Genji’s age. Jesse McCree.

McCree didn’t seem all that special compared to the rest of his team. All he carried was a six shooter revolver and an obnoxiously stereotypical cowboy hat. But there was no denying the man’s unerring accuracy with his gun.

Apparently, he had been picked from a gang called Deadlock at age 17. Deadlock was notorious for its harshness, its survival-of-the-fittest hierarchy. It was known to be cruel to its victims and members alike. Given a past like that, one would expect McCree to be hostile, vicious. His history should have shaped him into such a person. _That,_ at least, would make sense to Genji.

But that wasn’t the case.

No, McCree was amiable. Approachable. Everything you’d expect him _not_ to be. Although part of his easy-going nature was a front, McCree was friendly. He was willing to open up to teammates, to form friendships and become close to others. He was essentially the Strike Commander’s _son._ It had been clear in the tone Reyes used when speaking to him—exasperated, but fond.

McCree made real connections with the people in Blackwatch. He had clearly found a place there, despite the fact that his past _should_ have moulded him into a colder, harsher man. While McCree carried a shadow past, he also carried a certain light, one that was there in genuine smiles, real laughter.

Genji did not understand Jesse McCree.

To make matters worse, McCree had apparently made it a mission of his own to befriend Genji, or something like that. Genji did not care for it. It was annoying. What was the point trusting anybody? Genji had placed all his trust in somebody before.

And now he was a broken shadow of the person he used to be.

But McCree nevertheless carried on in trying to talk to Genji. Even when they were training in the outdoor practice range.

Genji preferred training by himself. He preferred doing a lot of things by himself. Genji only talked to others out of necessity. The person he talked to the most was Doctor Ziegler, but only because she was in charge of his well being. Genji didn’t care what happened to him. The pain of wrecking his metal body was better than the nothing he felt normally. But he was _trying_ not to do that, at repeated request of a concerned Angela, and also at request of Overwatch.

Overwatch had also requested that all teams train together in order to learn how to function as a unit on the battlefield, so that was why Genji was stuck fighting bots with McCree, Reyes, and Moira.

“Damn, partner.” McCree whistled, “Nice shot.”

The cowboy looked at the training bot, a shuriken embedded in its head, in a heap on the floor 30 feet away. Genji side eye McCree, unnaturally red eyes glowing as they flicked towards the other man. He immediately looked away, focusing instead on the other bot coming at him. This one he took out with the same startling accuracy. The bot sparked and shut down as the shuriken lodged into its head. With a little more force, the shuriken could have gone clean through.

“God **_damn_** _!_ ” McCree actually shouts this time. Across the practice range, Reyes sends a glance in their direction, then focuses on his own fight upon seeing it was just McCree being McCree. The cowboy whistles again, and then let out a loud whoop _._ Genji growled behind the mask covering the lower half of his face, irked at just how _annoying_ the cowboy was. Genji whirled towards McCree, ready to snarl at the man to _shut up_ as his shuriken automatically slid into his hand. McCree wasn’t looking at him, though.

McCree had stopped moving entirely to stop and stare at the downed bots. His face was lit up with genuine impressment when he turned to look at Genji. Perhaps the man was not making fun at his expense after all.

 

He retracted the shuriken in his hand, letting them slide back into his metal arm.

“You _have_ ta teach me how you do that sometime.” McCree said, lips quirked up into a faint smile.

 

His eyes were bright. Warm.

Genji looked away.

  
  


\--- --- ---

 

Missions were the only thing he looked forward to, if it could even be called that.

Genji dove straight in, tearing apart hostile omnics and humans alike. Reyes had shouted at him to be more careful once, twice. He didn’t listen. He didn’t want to be careful.

Times like these were the only times where Genji could chase after that fleeting feeling. The battlefield was the only place where Genji could feel something other than _anger._ It did not make sense, because on the battlefield he would let _out_ the hissing rage, staining his hands with blood and oil until there was nobody else left.

But here, something stirred within Genji. Every now and then, he would feel something that almost made him feel...human. He did not know what it was, but it eased the ache of emptiness resonating in his chest. And he wanted, **_needed_** it, this thing that could ease the ache of emptiness in his chest and warm his fractured body until he felt whole _._

But he couldn’t let anybody know. They all thought there was nothing soft left in him. For the most part, they were right, except for that small pinpoint of warmth he’d sometimes feel on missions. It was unexplainable. It made no sense.

It was what he needed to not give up completely.

Anger could only get a human so far. Even if Genji was barely human anymore.

“Jesse, they’re coming your way!” Reyes yelled suddenly. Genji glanced in the direction of the cowboy to see that the truck was, in fact, frantically careening in his direction. McCree stilled, observing the truck tactically. The sound of rapid gunfire reached Genji’s ears, and McCree ducked aside swiflty. Bullet holes littered the ground where McCree had been standing seconds ago.

Genji’s body twitched.

McCree sprung to his feet untouched. It was clear he knew he wasn’t in real danger; he was far too skilled to be _truly_ worried about this. No, this was a challenge. As the hostiles in the truck reloaded, McCree raised his own gun and took aim.

Four gunshots, and the truck was skidding out of control. The pressure in its tires rapidly leaked out through the bullet holes as the truck swerved this way and that, then finally slammed into the side a building. Blackwatch forces surrounded it immediately, officially marking the criminals as detained.

“Now _that’s_ a bullseye!” McCree cheered, pumping his fist. The cowboy laughed, clear and victorious, as another agent clapped him on the back. The laugh was a real one, bright and victorious and _alive._ It floated over the surrounding area, over Genji, resounding in his skull and echoing faintly.

Later, as they were boarding the plane to head back to base, Genji realized that the feeling had returned, nestled snugly somewhere within his empty casket of a body. He latched onto it, quietly holding onto it for as long as it would stay.

Genji did not know what he was chasing after.

  
  


\--- --- ---

  


Doctor Ziegler often talked to Genji during his routine maintenances. But Genji rarely responded, and when he did, it was a one word response, low and rough. Nevertheless, she kept talking, and it was a nice effort. It distracted him, at the very least. Today’s checkup was no different.

She was telling him about her plans for the day as she checked his vitals. She only wished she had a less hectic schedule; she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the weather until her break.

Genji didn’t have elaborate plans for the day. He never did. He spent his time training. Training, training, training, and pushing his body as far it could go, to the verge of breaking down and back. Because what else was there to do, beside airing for the next mission? His body was already so broken there was no way it could be broken anymore, but Doctor Ziegler seemed to disagree. She would tell him to get some rest, to give his body a break. In those instances, Genji would simply lock himself away in his room.

According to Doctor Ziegler, it was a beautiful day out—warm and sunny, with a gentle breeze.

He knew it was sunny. He could see it from the window in the Doctor Ziegler’s white checkup room. But...he had not known it was warm. Genji couldn’t feel it, after all. His cybernetics had been attuned to pick up on damage and incoming threats, not something as trivial as sunlight.

And yet an hour later, Genji found himself lingering on the roof of an outdoor practice range.

He stood in the shadow of the rooftop door, waiting as if he was unsure. What was there to be unsure about? This was simply a test. But a small, flickering part of him still holding onto hope whispered that maybe, just maybe, it was warm enough to feel. If he concentrated on the sensors of his cybernetics hard enough, perhaps he would feel the sunlight.

Genji cautiously moved further out onto the roof, stopping at the railing. His flesh hand lifted on its own accord, coming to a rest on the mask covering the lower part of his face. The hand hovered there for a moment, fingertips just barely brushing the metal, then dropped. It dangled at his side limply. His other hand rested on the railing.

From the rooftop, he could see the people darting in and out of the buildings glinting in the light and the expansive blue sky. When he closed his eyes, the light lit up the inside of his eyelids. Genji took a silent breath and concentrated.

He put as much as he could into focusing on what he could feel through the black and red metal of his body.

…

Nothing.

The railing creaked loudly under the force of his grip.

Genji could not feel any of it.

Yes, his body _registered_ it, but that was all he had. A little sensor letting him know that it was warm. He could not feel it on his body, the way he used to before.

Genji should not have expected anything. He should have learned his lesson months ago. Hope had no place within him. Genji snapped open his eyes, glaring. Immediately, he was momentarily blinded with sunny brightness. It burned itself onto his retinas, flickering in his vision like a pale ghost. It felt taunting. It felt unfair. It felt like hope had been dangled in front of him for the first time in a lifetime, and then ripped apart in front of his very eyes

Hope was dangerous. Pointless. It had no place in his life. When had it ever helped him? If anything, it was why he was here now.

Standing on the roof as a poor mimicry of a person, foolishly grasping for something he could no longer feel.

Genji did not go up to the roof again.

  
  
  


\--- --- ---

  
  


“Didn’t expect to see ya here.”

Genji paused, fingers frozen in the act of closing the clear plastic container. Most agents ate dinner in the cafeteria or the commons. He ate here specifically because no other agents were around. He turned toward the voice, frigidly staring down the newcomer.

McCree was leaning against the wall, meeting Genji’s icy gaze with ease. He casually walked towards Genji, despite the red eyes piercing him. McCree plunked down across from the cyborg, leaning against the window on his side.

He kept space between the two of them, but somehow it felt different from the space others gave him. It wasn’t like how others would shy away from Genji when he looked at them, when he got too close.

“I wasn’t sure if you could, well, eat.” McCree said, eyeing the empty plastic sandwich container in Genji’s hands, “Never actually seen you do it.”

Genji simply turned his head away. Contrary to what McCree had thought he _could_ eat, but he needed to do it far less often than a normal human would, given his current state. In the days immediately following surgery, Genji had been grateful for that. He had not been able to eat solid foods in the days following his cyborgization; his jaw needed time to heal completely. It was degrading.

His jaw had healed sufficiently about a month and a half after, so now eating was a less degrading process. But Genji only ate whenever his stomach _demanded_ it, or when Doctor Ziegler's nagging became too much. Eating required he take off the mask that covered the lower half of his face and hid him away from the incessant stares. Doctor Ziegler had said that much of his face was the most intact. Yet Genji kept the mask on. Taking it off was revealing the most vulnerable part of him. He did not want to be vulnerable ever again.

Genji realized McCree had not said anything else in a while. He waited for the silence to break. McCree must have wanted something if he was still here. If he wanted something, he should just spit it out and leave. But no other words came, and the quietude continued on. He glanced at McCree out of the corner of his eye. McCree had not moved from his spot, instead remaining in his seat. He was looking out the window wordlessly, watching the sunset change the colors of the sky. McCree was just...sitting there with him.

Genji glanced away, not saying anything either. But moments later he found himself, for some inexplicable reason, talking.

“I can eat.” Genji muttered into the silence, voice was metallic and slightly raspy from lack of use. He felt like a fool, squandering his hopes at some semblance of a normal conversation, but then McCree nodded.

“Yeah, I figured. Unless you were just holding onto a sandwich container from the cafeteria for fun.” McCree said, pointing at said container. Genji looked down at it. He had finished eating about thirty minutes before McCree had come in, but had remained seated. Sometimes even he wanted to stop for a moment. Whenever he felt like that, he would normally come here.

The minutes ticked by. He made no move to get up, or even attempt to force a conversation. Instead, he looked out the quietly window at the setting sun in amiable silence. It was almost...peaceful.

Genji’s throat rapidly choked up. Suddenly, he wanted two things at once. He wanted to leave. He wanted to stay. _Why did he want to stay?_

He needed to leave, now. He hurriedly got to his feet. If that startled McCree at all, he didn’t show.

“You leaving?” McCree asked, tilting his head up to look at Genji.

Genji didn’t say anything. He swiftly made for the exit, ready to dart away and disappear. But something stopped him at the door. Genji turned around haltingly, unsure as to why he hadn’t left yet.

He stared at McCree, who was looking at Genji in surprise. It was no doubt that he was wondering why Genji hadn’t disappeared off into the shadows, like he always did. When he did not do anything for a solid minute or two, McCree looked away.

“See ya later, partner.” McCree drawled softly, gaze aimed out the window.

The light of the sunset had streamed in through the window, cascading onto the surrounding areas. Including McCree, whose face was painted the soft yellow of the sunset, golden on his tan skin. His eyes reflected the pink and gold sky, lit up into a rich golden brown.

Uncharted words lingered on the tip of Genji’s tongue, incessantly pushing outwards.

“I come here to eat in private. Occasionally...” He swallowed. His voice sounded foreign and rough to his own ears. It also sounded faint. Faint in a now unfamiliar way. Genji wavered. He felt as if he had just stumbled upon an unmarked door. Where would it lead?

Brown eyes swiveled towards him, clear as day.

“Occasionally I will stay longer.” He finished. The words echoed throughout the room as McCree blinked at him. Once, twice, and then his eyes widened ever so slightly. Something in Genji’s chest ached.

He turned and left, ignoring the pounding in his chest and dryness in his throat.

A few days later, Genji was sitting in the same room when another wordlessly body sat down in the seat across from him. When he glanced over, McCree met his gaze resolutely. Genji simply stared at him, expression indiscernible under the mask. The cowboy tipped his hat in greeting.

Ever so slightly, Genji tilted his head towards him.

He came to that room more often after that.

  
  


\--- --- ---

  


It was inevitable, really. Genji had been reckless on the battlefield again, except this time there were consequences. He had pushed too far into enemy territory, only to find the way out had been closed off by Talon forces, leaving him cornered.

Bullets had rendered his cybernetic arm practically useless. His left leg was steadily on its way to a similar state, quite literally shutting down slowly. Blood trickled down his temple, slowly heading down to his mask. He was leaning against a crate providing cover, chest rising and fall with difficulty because of the bullet lodged in the black and red metal. It was not a fortunate situation to be in. But Genji’s fortune had already run out long before this.

The only thing that he hadn’t expected was McCree to follow when he rushed in.

The cowboy was trapped as well, crouching down next to Genji behind the crate and cursing fervently. He was turned towards Genji, trying to bring his sparking arm under control. It was clear he had no idea what he was doing, but neither did Genji. Doctor Ziegler had tried to get him to learn more about his cybernetics. He knew he should’ve—now was the perfect example—but he didn’t _want_ to. Genji didn’t want to learn about the dismal material that replaced what he no longer had. It would not make it feel any less foreign.

But, he supposed, it would have been helpful.

Genji couldn’t help the twinge of guilt he felt when he looked at McCree. Technically, it was the man’s own fault for following Genji. But he still felt responsible for McCree being trapped with him.

“Shit, shit, _shit._ ” McCree hissed, glancing around the crate to get a better scope of the situation. Blackwatch’s side of the conflict was about a hundred feet away. It didn’t seem all that large of a distance, but when Genji knew it would be difficult for him to get across fast enough without being shot.

“McCree.” Genji said lowly. McCree swiveled around to look at him, “You should move before they close in.”

“And just leave your bleeding ass behind? Not a chance in hell.” McCree snapped. He wasn’t the type to readily leave behind a companion, but even more so when they were at the risk of getting taken by Talon.

Genji could not deny the fear he felt at being taken by Talon. Even though his body was already twisted, he knew they could twist it farther. But Genji did not want to be the reason why Talon sank its claws into McCree as well.

“ **_Go_** .” Genji snarled, metallic voice crackling with intensity. McCree didn’t fold. If anything, he became more stubborn. He inched closer, visibly wracking his brain for any sort of way out of their current situation. Just as he started to look frustrated, his eyes widened with an idea.

“Alright, you’re gonna have to get up. Lean on me.” McCree said, grabbing onto Genji and pulling him to his feet before he could react. Genji startled at the sudden contact. He impulsively twitched to shove himself away, but pushed it down. He could drop his wall for the moment. They had little time. After a brief moment of hesitation, he put all his weight on his good leg and McCree, slinging and arm around the cowboy for support. McCree huffed with the weight, then adjusted. The two of them moved towards the edge of the crate and chanced a look at their surroundings. It was as clear than it had been earlier, being that most of the hostiles had been pushed back, but a few still trying to keep control of the area lingered. The risk was still rather high.

“We’re running for it. I’ll shoot and you deflect incoming bullets with the katana.” McCree said grimmly, eying the hostiles running about.

“Odachi.” Genji said, unable to stop the word from coming out, “Not a katana.”

“Huh, sorry. Deflect with the odachi, then. You ready?”

The plan was stupid. It was all they had.

Genji nodded, and they took off. They made it unnoticed for a few feet, but then a Talon agent noticed the two of them inching along. When they shot, he was ready. He deflected the bullet back at them, watching their head snap back with impact. This didn’t go unnoticed, however, and soon enough they were under heavy fire. Between Genji’s deflecting and McCree’s aim, the strategy was not the worst one. But in the end it was still just the two of them against many others.

A bullet hit the human part of Genji’s chest with a burst of pain and he sagged immediately. His katana slipped out of his grasp, hitting the floor with a clatter. McCree shouted in surprise as he was nearly dragged down by the sudden dead weight. He sent Genji a bewildered look, only to suck in a sharp breath at the sight of Genji pawing weakly at the bullet wound.

“Shit.” McCree uttered emphatically.

Genji had no energy left to tell McCree to run, but he hoped the man would have the sense to do so. He did not. Instead, McCree fell silent and adjusted his grip on Genji. He had enough time to wonder just what the hell the cowboy was doing when he muttered something under his breath and turned to face the forces closing in on them.

Nothing happened for a moment, and he wondered if McCree had given up, until—

_“It’s high noon.”_

The low rumble of McCree’s voice traveled alongside the length of Genji’s body. At first he thought it was just him, until he realized that the sound was echoing through the entire room and into the floor. He turned his head, muddled brain trying to understand why McCree’s voice seemed to dig into his very core.

Instantly, bright light nearly blinded him. Startled, he blinked the light away until his vision cleared. When it did, all the air left his body in a sudden breathless gasp. The light was _McCree._

Genji had not felt such awe in long time.

McCree was _glowing_ , surround by an incandescent aura that set him ablaze with an orange-yellow light. Their closeness only made it all the more intense. The light imprinted itself on Genji’s retinas until he knew that even when he closed his eyes, he would see it. When his eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, he saw the strange glint to McCree’s eye, and when he looked closer, Genji swore he caught side of red skull sitting within the pupil.

Genji couldn’t look away, even if he had wanted to. The light illuminating McCree made him think of the desert, a hawk soaring far above, the sun. It was unreal, being so close to the unearthly light that covered his entire being, dancing off the metal of his body.

McCree was _radiant._

Movement drew his eye. McCree had lifted his gun, finger on the trigger. And then suddenly gunshots were ringing in Genji’s ears and ten bodies were crumpling to the floor. Just like that, the light was gone and all was silent. It took Genji a moment to realize he felt light-headed, and another to realize it wasn’t just because of what just happened. When he managed to make himself look down, he noticed the steady stream of blood coming from the bullet wound in his chest.

“Wait, Genji, stay with me!” McCree’s voice rang in his ear. His body was jostled gently, but it was no use.

A flicker of light sparked in the darkness as Genji drifted off into unconsciousness.

  


\--- --- ---

  
  
  


He woke with a start, eyes snapping open. The first thing he noticed was that he was the infirmary. Genji could feel the bandaging on his chest, right over where the bullet wound was. His cybernetics were in working order again, responding to his movements to sit up. Once he was propped up, he got a better look at his surroundings.

The second thing he noticed was that he was not alone.

McCree was seated at his bedside, facing Genji. Something told him that McCree had been there for a while, waiting for him to regain consciousness. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Well, look who finally woke up.” McCree drawled, grinning as he leaned forward in his seat. The cowboy had taken off his hat, which was now resting in his lap, “How ya feeling?”

Genji tilted his head, considering.

“I am in working condition.”

McCree snorted, raising an eyebrow, “Not what I asked, partner.”

A beat passed in slightly surprised silence on Genji’s part.

“I am...well rested.”

“Good to here. You had me scared there, for a moment. I had to lug you over to Moira. And then you were out cold for a couple a’ hours.”

Genji didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he sat in silence as he began to recollect what happened immediately before he lost consciousness. Making a last ditch effort to escape...getting shot...McCree _...the light._ That bright, bright light. He glanced a McCree out of the corner of his eye. Slowly, he lifted his head to look the man square in the face.

“McCree,” Genji began, a thousand questions fighting to burst out, “What was that?”

McCree knew what he was talking about instantly. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the best way to explain it. He finally settled on telling it for what it was.

“Not entirely sure, to be honest.” McCree mused, gaze slightly distant, “It’s just something I can do. I call it Deadeye.”

Genji thought of the red skull he had seen in McCree’s eye. The name was fitting.

“I would’a done it earlier,” McCree said, now sounding sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, “but it ain’t exactly the most discreet thing, ya know? And I can’t move fast when I’m doing it.”

Genji nodded in understanding.

“I can’t really explain it, but,” McCree grinned impishly and mimed shooting off finger guns, “It makes a great party trick.”

Genji understood, in a sense. A lot of things could not be explained, and he was not surprised that McCree had an ability that fell under that category. It seemed to be an extension of the man’s skill. It was a deadly ability, one that could easily turn the tide of a fight.

And yet all Genji could think about was that dazzling orange-yellow radiance. He looked at McCree again.

The curtains on the window had been drawn back, allowing gentle sunlight to filter into the room. The light haloed the back of McCree’s head, softly lighting up the edges of his hair. Genji couldn’t look away. He swallowed dryly. The impish grin McCree was giving him slowly transformed into something else, something soft and warm and Genji did _not deserve it._

McCree took his silence for his normal cue of wishing to be alone. The cowboy got up from his chair.

“I’ll leave ya to it.” McCree said with finality, already walking towards the door, and Genji realized McCree was going to leave. Before he could stop himself, he was lurching forward, reaching out as if he could stop McCree just by mimicking the movement.

“Wait!” Genji cried out. He rarely spoke this loud, save for on the battlefield. McCree turned in obvious surprise, but waited to hear him out nonetheless.

He faltered. What had he wanted to say? He hadn’t thought this through. Genji remained silent, struggling to finds words to explain the foreign tangle in his chest. This one was different than the others. This one weighed less heavily on his heart. He settled on simply conveying his gratitude.

“Thank you, McCree.” The words felt weak. Not enough. But it was enough for McCree, who just waved him off goodnaturedly.

“Ain’t gotta thank me, Genji. But, uh, if you want to…” McCree hesitated, thinking, then carried on, “...it’s Jesse.”

“What?”

“My name’s Jesse. I think we’re on a first name basis by now, right? I mean, I already use yours.” McCree paused, “If...if that’s alright with you.”

 

Genji stared back at McCree wordlessly, face unreadable behind the mask. A thousand different thoughts warred in his head, smashing together and trying to make sense of how everything, from McCree to the way Genji couldn’t breathe as he watched the hope in McCree’s eyes start to flicker.

Genji chose one thought, and pushed the others away.

“.... _Jesse._ ” He said, as if testing the feel of the name, the sound of it spoken through his metallic voice. His voice didn’t grate on his ears the way it normally did. Behind the mask, he mouthed the name a few times, testing out the syllables and the way it flowed. It felt...right.

Genji didn’t miss the way McCree— _Jesse’s_ face lit up. Jesse smiled again; it was one of his big, bright ones. The one Genji rarely saw up close. Except this time not only was he seeing it face to face, but it was directed at him. Because of him.

Deep in his chest, Genji felt _it_ again, the fleeting emotion he’d catch onto while on the battlefield and hold onto until it disappeared. It made him reckless, like it always did, because he wanted more. And now he just thought of perhaps the most reckless, impulse driven thought he’d had since waking up in this new body. But, here and now, maybe reckless wasn’t so bad.

Genji closed his eyes and took off the mask.

The mask covering the lower half of his visage had been at his request. Only Doctor Ziegler and Reyes had seen his face the way it was now. He didn’t want others to see, nor did he want to see himself.

And yet he was baring his face, scars and all, to Jesse McCree.

The cowboy was stunned, not so much as moving a finger as he nearly _gaped_ in shock. Genji steadily gazed at him, waiting for Jesse to react in some way. He was...scared.

The astonished silence carried on, until there it was again. That bright smile.

“Howdy, handsome.” Jesse said, light and humorous. He tipped his hat playfully, but Genji knew what he was trying to say. And he was thankful. Because though he wasn’t ready to accept that message himself, somebody else was. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a reckless idea. Perhaps it was overdue.

“Thank you, Jesse.” Genji repeated, softly. There was a sincerity too it that should have scared him, but it didn’t. He felt as if he was revealing too much when he stared into those warm brown eyes, but right now, he didn’t care.

 

When Jesse left, because Genji actually did need some rest, he made sure to close the door behind him. Genji stared at it long after he left, thinking over everything that happened in the span of a few hours.

Maybe one door closing had opened another.

  
  


\--- --- ---

  


Genji did not sleep much.

It had gotten better since he had first arrived at Overwatch, that was true. What little sleep he got back then was always interrupted by the nightmares. The nightmares that would send paralyzing fear down his spine and make it difficult to breath, to think. Everytime he would always end up _there,_ terrified and alone and cold, so, so, cold _._

The nightmares were far less frequent now, but even then he did not sleep much. Apparently, neither did Jesse.

They had stumbled across each other in the middle of the night, and ended up drifting together into one of the lounges. The two of them were sitting on the ground in the corner. At first, they had simply sat there in a comfortable silence, but conversation had eventually found a way in. Maybe it was because it the lack of sleep, maybe it was the fact that he was with somebody who was closer to him than any other person (Except for maybe one, but that was from a different life. From before.), but Genji found himself speaking of the things that would keep him up at night.

Not just the nightmares, but everything he wished for, everything he missed. Particularly being able to feel. A few months ago he wouldn’t dare to let anybody know of these things. But he had already revealed one of the most vulnerable parts of himself to Jesse. It always felt more intimate than it had any right to be, but everytime he looked at those warm brown eyes, something in his chest reached out. He couldn’t stop himself now, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. So Genji didn’t think.

He just talked.

It was early in the morning now, and even though there was nobody else nearby they still tried to hush their voices. He welcome it, because it felt safer this way. More secure. It did not make sense, but neither did the fact that he was telling Jesse all of this.

“You’re saying you can’t feel at all?” The cowboy asked. Genji shook his head, grasping for the right words to say.

“Doctor Ziegler gave me a body, another chance at life, but there was only so much she could do.” Genji muttered into the quiet, “I am aware of when something is touching me...but it feels _muted._ I...I cannot feel sunlight. I cannot feel warmth. I can tell when it is warm, but it’s different. Not enough.”

“Oh.” Jesse murmured quietly. When Genji looked at him, he thought of that day about a year and half ago, when he tried to feel the sunlight from the rooftop of a practice range. And he remembered the crushing realization that hope had no place in a life like his. It brought on a bitter taste to his mouth, and he cursed himself for thinking of it in the middle of talking to Jesse. Genji didn’t want to ruin this, whatever it was. Hope had no place in a life like his, but he didn’t want to ruin what he did have.

Jesse was silent. He tapped at the floor as he thought, mulling over what Genji had just told him.

“I’ve touched your cybernetics before. Your arm, too. Felt warm to me.” Jesse muttered. Genji watched him, wondering where the cowboy was going with this, “You were talking about how your cybernetics couldn’t feel as well. But what about the fleshy part of you?”

“Your face. Your flesh arm. Can’t those feel things normally?” He mused, unaware of how each word made Genji rethink _everything,_ “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Jesse leaned against the wall, tipping his head back. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

“Maybe you’re trying to feel things the wrong way. ”

 

Genji was silent for a long, _long_ time.

A part of him dimly realized that the sun was rising, gradually filling the room with the early morning light.

  
  


\--- --- ---

 

The rooftop of the practice range was empty, as always.

Genji huddled under the shadow of the rooftop door, staring out into the sunlight as if he no longer knew what it was.

In a sense, he didn’t.

The day was another sunny day, and just like the one so long ago, Genji wanted to walk out into the sunlight and feel it. But he did not want to be fooled again. He did not want to grasp for false hopes, only to have them torn out of his hands right as he reached out. But he wanted, no, _needed_ to know. He longed for it. For the wide blue sky, for the warmth of the sunlight, for the brilliant sun shining down onto the Watchpoint.

Two sides of him warred in his mind: one hissing at him to turn back before it was too late and the other urging him to take a chance. That part of him screamed, screamed for what had been and what _could be._ The warmth of sunlight was like a ghost now, an old memory he faintly remembered. The longing was so _strong,_ lodging high in his throat and pulling him forward on the tips of his toes. He felt light and heavy at the same time. Everything in him ached for it, for just walking forward and _trying._

Genji walked to the railing, grabbing onto it as if to anchor himself.

He let out a shuddery breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and stared out over the base. He took in the people darting to and fro on base, the wide blue sky that stretched over his head, the buildings sparkling in the brilliant sunlight.

Perhaps this _was_ foolish. Maybe he was only climbing a staircase leading to nowhere, running blindly towards crushing disappointment. But he...he wanted to try. At least one more time.

Genji reached up tentatively. The tips of his fingers brushed against his mask, hovering on the edge of crossing some unspoken line. He wavered, swinging back and forth between wanting to do this and wanting to turn and never look back.

The voice urging him to do it won out.

Hesitantly, he took off his mask. The metal disengaged with a clunk, revealing the lower half of his face. Genji looked at the mask for a moment, unknown emotions warring in his head, then tilted his head up towards the sun. When he closed his eyes, the light lit up the inside of his eyelids, painting it with a soft orange-yellow.

Genji paused for a moment, then tried to feel.

Seconds ticked past. Inky disappointment clawed at the edges of his mind and he nearly whirled around right then, ready to storm away and force himself to give up such stupid dreams.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed, concentrating as hard as he could to simply _feel_ _warmth_ again, because the hope and desperation were mixing and rising in a heady mixture that overtook him, making him think please, please, _please,_ ** _please_** —

 

_He felt it._

 

Genji’s eyes snapped open.

In a split second, everything became different. Because in that split second, Genji could feel the sunlight, warm and steady, on his skin. He was _warm._ Hope and desperation blossomed into something else, releasing the pressure pounding in his head.

Wetness pricked at the corner of his eyes.

Genji could feel the brilliant sunlight gently washing over his face, his palm, his entire body. His flesh hand shot up out of its own accord and brushed his cheek in hushed disbelief. All the air had left his lungs in one hushed gasp, leaving him feeling as he was breathless. He could feel how the sunlight had warmed up the metal. It was so _warm._ He looked down at himself in disbelief.

Tentatively, his flesh hand grasped down on the wrist of the metallic one. Just like his skin, the metal was warmed up too. Its heat seeped into his skin and lighting up the nerves there.

The hissing, roaring anger coiled up in his core abated ever so slightly.

Longing, which had lodged itself in his throat, threatened to spill out now, rushing out and making Genji feel like he was free falling and soaring all at the same time. Just seconds ago the sun was forever out of his reach, tauntingly vivid with echoes of warmth and faint memories of a different, better life. But it wasn't out of his reach. He felt it, felt the tender warmth washing over him.

The realization was jarring.

Hope was not as foreign as he thought it was. Maybe hope did have a place in life. Jesse had been right--he had been feeling with the wrong parts.

Jesse.

Jesse McCree, who had convinced him to come up here and give it one last try, to not give up entirely in the face of losing his last dredges of humanity. The strange cowboy had squeezed himself into Genji’s life, despite the icy exterior he put up solely to keep others _out._ He often wondered how Jesse had done it. But usually it was **_why_ ** he had done it. Genji didn’t deserve such effort, especially from somebody like Jesse McCree. But apparently, Jesse thought he deserved it.

Something in him blossomed at the thought.

There was that fleeting feeling again, the one he could never quite understand. That feeling in his chest that made him feel whole. Human. Like, perhaps one day he could actually be somebody he wanted to be. Somebody with a future to look forward to.

It was a strange feeling. He couldn’t understand it. Neither could Genji understand how Jesse’s smile made the rest of the world seem dull in comparison. Even though he was seeing the real thing right now, the memory itself was breathtaking. Why was everything about Jesse so, so, so _dazzling?_ He didn’t understand how Jesse’s mere presence was full of life and so, so **_bright,_ ** brighter and warmer and more radiant than the sun itself.

Genji blinked.

The feeling in his chest intensified, tugging gently at his heart again and again and _again._ It all felt like _before,_ back when he was chasing the sun in search of freedom. But this was...different.

When he thought of Jesse McCree, he thought of the soft pinpoint of warmth lodged in his chest. He thought of warm brown eyes and brilliant laughter, of gorgeously sun-kissed skin and a radiant smile that made him feel as if, maybe, just maybe, he could be okay.

Genji looked up at the sky, considering the warmth he felt on his skin, and the warmth he felt in his chest.

 

Perhaps he had been chasing after the wrong sun his whole life.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos/comment if you liked it! Feedback is always more than appreciated. Pls give feedback I spent 50 years on this.
> 
> Also on my [tumblr!](https://regret-dot-jpg.tumblr.com/post/176663923267/to-chase-the-sun-mcgenji-week-2018-day-1-moon) Like it? Reblog it.


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